


Dämmerung

by Farla



Category: Exalted, White Wolf
Genre: Adventure, Campaignbased, Don't Have to Know Canon, Drama, Gen, Lunars, MCMV, POV Alternating, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, Solars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farla/pseuds/Farla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearing the end of RY 764. The Lunars have started a new plan to save Creation, the Immaculate Order is making a bid for power in the vacuum left by the Empress, and a strangely familiar sickness has just appeared in the Scavenger Lands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Because I aim to try out everything people say is a bad idea, and I might as well get more mileage out of all the description I slaved over.
> 
> This is a mildly altered version of Exalted. It starts off several years early, just under one year since the Empress' disappearance, and it's a mix of first and second edition setting information with occasional tweaks. For example, among other things, the number of women running around is more in line with the percentages found in the pictures than the various text. White Wolf: So close and yet so terribly far.

_Prologue_

A sleek white cat picked its way delicately through the still marsh, leaping occasionally between pockets of dry land. Despite its care, its feet were already black, soaked through with muddy water, and the hairs on the tip of its tail were dark with grains of silt from when they had brushed the ground.

Though the marsh was far from any human settlements and farther still from anything approaching a city, the white cat itself was unobtrusive. Its thick fur was not the long pampered tresses of a rich noble's pet, nor short, thin fur of a mangy wild cat. It was fit, muscular with just enough plumpness to suggest it ate well. Its fur was glossy and, aside from the paws, clean, with an especially thick ruff around its neck and chest, and it would have looked just as at home sitting on a window sill as it did now making its careful way through the marsh. Few observers would spared it a second glance. The cat continued on its careful way, slipping in and out of the white mist like a ghost.

The white cat paused on a dry mound of earth, sat, and began to lick its paws clean, face crinkling in distaste at the dead, stagnant flavor of the water. The cat could smell nothing else in the place. It kept one eye out for any motion, but none came and in time it had finished its paws and set off again.

It paused again by a patch of open water, wriggling its way through the reeds that surrounded it to the very edge of the bank and then poking its head through the last to stare down into the utterly still pool. A large dead fish lay in the center, the flesh on one side rotted away to expose many, clawlike thin ribs. It was the closest thing to life the white cat had seen since entering the marsh. The eye facing upward rolled in its socket, evidently loose.

The cat debated pulling the dead fish onto the bank to examine it more closely. It reached out with one washed white paw, but then its ears pricked as it heard the sound of splashing and clumping, like a horse making its clumsy way through the soggy area. The fish was forgotten. The white cat pulled its head and paw back, then untangled itself from the reeds and began to move in the direction of the noise. Behind it, unnoticed, the fish's eye rolled to watch it depart.

The sound led it to a horse and rider. The white cat hid under a long tuft of grass that had fallen over under its own weight, the tips working their way back into the soggy ground. It was a damp hiding place, but the cat took no notice, remaining perfectly still as the rider came into view.

Even at the distance the white cat could tell there was something wrong with the horse. There were large discolored patches, as if it had lost fur, and it moved with a tottering trot in a perfectly straight line, making no effort to seek better footing or keep out of the water. A small figure sat on its back, wrapped in dark cloth and with a massive black sword strapped to its back.

As the horse came closer the white cat revised its earlier estimation. Almost all of the fur on the horse was missing, and the discolored patches it had noticed were areas the skin had been lost. Bone showed through on one leg, where the thin flesh had worn away.

The rider was hooded and facing straight forward. It was only when horse and rider came quite close that the angle allowed the cat to make out the rider's face, a young, pale child's.

The rider passed by the white cat's hiding place. After several minutes had passed and the rider had been nearly swallowed by the mist again, it slid from its hiding place and began to trail along silently behind. It came to a long strip of shallow water, newly churned black by the rider's passage, and without a moment's hesitation the white cat slid in, soaking itself to the chest, to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

_Long ago, when Creation was young, things were different. The edges of the world were sealed from the devouring chaos of the Wyld. We ruled Creation and all lived in perfect peace and harmony with all things, for all things knew their place in the world._

_Then demons came into the world, slithering in through cracks in the sky. They claimed themselves the true rulers of Creation._

_They stole the blood from children's veins and fed it to lizards that crawled in the dust and sharks that swam in the sea to make powerful abominations that walked on two legs and claimed to be greater than human by force of their new power. But though the stalking beasts tried to pervert the perfected hierarchy of the world with monstrous might, we were not beaten._

_They chipped holes in the seal of the world and let trickles of chaos come in and wrap themselves in parodies of human form. These claimed themselves placed above humans, leaders come from the gods. The false folk spoke with voices of bells and the tongues of sleek cats, but we were not deceived and these too were defeated._

_But when they found the cracks in human hearts and slid inside, they claimed those as well._

_So it was the first Anathema drew breath in the world. They stole the powers of the sun and the moon and with it they set to make their demon selves the new Lords of Creation, to destroy the very structure built into the world. They had the tongues of cats and the might of sharks, and they deceived many and killed those they could not, and when they grew bored they slaughtered their own kingdoms and built new cities of corpses._

_But there were those whose hearts had no openings for demons to use, and they prayed to the makers of the world, the Five Immaculate Dragons, and because of their virtue the dragons heard the prayers as they lay sleeping. Each took human form and came to walk among us. The Immaculate Dragons blessed the greatest and most virtuous with the powers of their elements, and these were the first Exalted. They led the Dragonblooded host against the demons, driving them from the world and casting them into a prison made of their own bone._

_Though the demons had been defeated and banished from the world, they could not be banished from the hearts of humans. So long as there were cracks in human hearts, they could still find their way back in, and there would again be Anathema upon the world. So it was the Immaculate Dragons set the Dragonblooded as princes of the earth, that they might fight corruption and heresy wherever it appeared._

_\---_

_Once, in the dawn of things, humans struggled in the world, for Creation was full of great monsters and greater makers. The gods of the elements, of sea and tree, wind and flame, of the stone that supports the world, saw their suffering and blessed the most noble with their power, that they might be Exalted and make the world more righteous, and for a time things were well._

_But the gods of the sky looked down and saw what the gods of the world had done, of the might of their champions and the many challenges that remained. And so they descended from on high to Creation, and they picked those they found most noble to wield their power, the power of the sun and the moon and the stars._

_And they were so mighty the air around them burned, and so too their champions. But the power flared around them and could not be controlled, for it was not grounded in loam and salt. The champions of the sky had looked upon heaven and the lights blinded their eyes from seeing the earth of Creation, and the power burned out their hearts and left only shards of mad crystal flame in their chests. Unable to see the path of righteousness they turned from it and declared instead that they must unmake the world, for as they could no longer see it, it should no longer exist._

_To save the world, the Exalted of the earth fought the Exalted of the sky and bound their hearts under the soil and salt they lacked. But some were so bright and mad that even this would not hold them. They escaped their prison to find new hearts to consume._

_\---_

_Humans were made the lowest of all creatures. One day the gods came to them and said, "Give us Heaven and the Dome of Divinity, and we will give you Creation. For we have asked the dragon souls of the earth and they have told us it may be done."_

_"How can we do this?" asked the people. "We are but mortal, and the rulers of Heaven were not born and cannot die."_

_"We will raise you up. We will burn away your mortality with our power. And when you win, we shall give you the Mandate of Heaven, and you will be as gods on the earth."  
_

_"If you can give us this power," said the people, "we will do as you ask."_

_  
"Power," said the dragon souls, who knew humanity, "must be bound by blood, by family and tradition." And so humans were given power from the dragons, and the gods knew them to be great heroes._

_"But we fight the tyranny of the world," said the gods, who knew power but not humans. "We have not blood or family, and tradition must be overturned." So they made their own champions and gave each a piece of their own essence, unbound, the essence of perfection, of change, of fate decided. And from them they made heroes who could do what could not be done._

_And for their service they were given the Mandate of Heaven, and made the world into a place of glory._

_But their power was unbound and untempered, and it burned away all that was human inside them, until nothing was left but a piece of a god. And the piece, which was the pure essence of a thing, struggled against the world, which was not, and the struggle drove it mad._

_So the blood of the dragons defeated them in turn. Those that could be bound away were, and those that could not were cast into the wyld, to become kin to the demons and fae who lurked beyond the boundaries of all things._

-

A figure wrapped in dark leather stepped carefully through the doorframe onto the dusty street. It wore long butcher's gloves, flared wide enough that they covered the long sleeves of its long jacket all the way to the elbows. Carefully, it removed those, dropping them into a barrel of foul-smelling liquid set against the building, revealing slim white human hands, somewhat clammy with sweat. These reached up to grasp the monstrous black birdlike mask covering its head. It was a plague mask, with a long funnel of herbs set at the mouth in the hopes of filtering poisons from the air. Underneath was the face of a young man, yellow hair unruly and damp. Carefully, he set the mask down against the wall, next to the liquid-filled bin. His jacket he left on as he crossed the open area, although he moved with a gingerliness as if uncertain if he should touch anything.

On the other side of the street, almost backed against the opposite wall, a Dragonblooded stood, watching silently. He was dressed in typically martial fashion, in yellow robes with a prominent red breastplate over them and a pair of red bracers on either arm. A sword hung at his side, a long one by mortal standards but little more than a dagger for him. All were intricately and expensively crafted. The robes had a complex abstract pattern woven into them, while a roaring lion was etched into the front of the jade breastplate.

Tsi was not familiar with the intricate politics displayed by the skillfully drawn lion. He found the presence of the image strange, violating his understanding of the Immaculate Philosophy, but for a Dragonblooded to do something was to define the Immaculate teachings.

He put the thought out of his mind, looking back down and fixing his eyes to the ground by the Dragonblood's feet. Pictures weren't important now. "It's extremely odd," Tsi said. "As I outlined in my message, a number of patients arrived, all displaying symptoms matching those given in old texts for Great Contagion in its final stages."

"There's been a resurgence, then? You've confirmed it?"

"That's the odd thing," Tsi explained. "They were all ambulatory when they were admitted. Most brought themselves in. We quarantined them immediately, of course, but...ambulatory, every last one. And, well you know this already, but one of the problems with treating Contagion, in the first days when people tried to treat it, was that people rarely knew that's what it was until very near the end, when the skin had begun to green. And that happened shortly before the body lost integrity. There was so little time for treatment before death, not when they were so close to bursting. There's some record of - well, you know already, I'm sure. This, though...this is unmentioned in any of the books I've read. That's why it's vital I get in touch with scholars on the Blessed Isle." He gestured emphatically, not noticing how the Dragonblooded grimaced and shifted away from his waving hand. His eyes were bobbing up and down, staring off to either side, up toward the man's chest, then back to the ground by his feet respectfully. "There's some weakness - dizziness, mostly, not so much they can't walk about. A touch of fever. Their skin is remaining firm. I've cut two in a sealed room, and the blood clotted up normally. Small cuts, of course. But still. I need to find out if there's any record of something like this."

"So - you don't think it's actually the Great Contagion?" the Dragonblooded asked slowly. "A false alarm?"

The doctor shook his head, sending his blond hair flying about for an instant. "No. It's probably Contagion, though I wouldn't bet my - well. Their other symptoms match up exactly with the records of the initial symptoms of Contagion, just extremely mild versions. That's why I need to know what the libraries back in the Realm proper say on the subject. I think we may be able to treat this." He smiled a little, realigned his gaze back to the man's feet. "As I said, there's already a full quarantine in place. Once the first bunch showed up we sent people around, checked out the whole town for anyone else and brought them in. And I suspect that the skin tint as an initial symptom, meaning it likely can't spread out as easily. It's containable, and with -" His eyes were still at the Dragonblooded's feet. One stepped backward, the foot twisting to brace against the dirt. Thin, almost clear flames flared around them. In mesmerized horror, he tracked them upward inch by inch, until, barely aware of it, he took in the man's determined expression, yellow eyes fixed on the building beyond him and a terrible mass of flames gathering in one outstretched fist.

"No!" he shouted, lunging forward to grab the man's arm, heat flaring around him.

Then the heat vanished but the world was awash in light. It wasn't from the Dragonblooded, Tsi realized. The other man had taken several steps backward, flames dying back and mouth open in horror, but Tsi barely noticed, staring instead at his own hands. They were unburnt but glowing.

Gold and blue light streamed up in a beacon visible for miles.

The Dragonblooded had already recovered from his shock, reaching for the sword at his belt, the flames flaring up again like a bonfire.

_I'm going to die_.

The Dragonblooded charged at him, swinging his blade.

He raised his hand automatically to ward off the blow, even as another part of his mind cataloged every way it was useless to try.

The light covering him flared, and the blow slid off his palm, like it was deflected before it could reach his skin.

Tsi slid around the charge, dropped into a crouch and kicked, the blow hitting the Dragonblood's well-armored side. He staggered, almost knocked off balance by the blow, but he righted himself a second later and spun to face Tsi again, flame pouring off his blade as it swung.

He ducked. The blade screeched through the stone wall behind him, sending a thick shower of white and blue sparks down over his head and shoulders. Tsi flinched, closing his eyes and raising one arm to shield his face.

"Die, Demon!"

Tsi opened his eyes to see the blade raised above his head. He rolled sideways as it stabbed down, the blade sinking into the stone. For a second, it stuck. Then the Dragonblooded wrenched and it came out with a shower of stone fragments. The sword whistled toward him, much too low to hope to duck. Instead he jumped, pushing off the wall so he was shooting over the Dragonblood's head, one leg whipping out and kicking the other man in the head, sending him facefirst into the stone blocks even as Tsi landed on the ground.

_How did I - was that even possible?_

But that hadn't had much effect either. The Dragonblooded pulled his head back, roaring in fury, then swung the sword with one hand while the other fought to clear the bits of stone and dust from his eyes. There were smears of blood across his face, and the blow was wild, missing Tsi entirely.

_I should run. I can't possibly fight off a Dragonblooded. _

Not that running would do much good. They'd raise the Wyld Hunt, if this one didn't just cut him down now. His life was already over. But at least he'd have a chance...

He took a step back, looking down the street. His eyes fixed on the hospital. If he ran...if he _lost... _The Dragonblooded exploded in flame. Heat washed over him. He staggered backward several steps, arms raised over his eyes. He heard the blow coming and dived to the side, the sword cutting into his arm. His other hand reached out as he tried to regain his balance, grabbing the wooden pole holding up the cloth canopy above the door.

Then Tsi ripped it free and swung it with all his might, smashing it into the side of the man's face with such force the end splintered.

The Dragonblooded barely flinched. He raised his sword for another blow.

Something white barreled into him before he could swing the blade, knocking him off his feet. For a second, a giant wolf stood atop Tsi's opponent, then it tore the man's head off with a snap of its jaws.

A small figure in black was sitting on its back. The wolf's head turned to him, blood dripping from its fangs. "Quick!" a girl's voice said. "Follow me!" And the wolf jumped from the body and took off down the street.

Tsi hesitated. He looked toward the other end of the street. Soldiers were pounding their way around the corner, led by a figure whose blue armor and massive sword all had the glint of polished jade.

He ran.


	3. Chapter 3

I should go a bit further into setting here.

The books are unclear to contradictory in the area of what people actually believe. So I've settled on this: Under standard terminology, it is currently the Second Age, starting when the Scarlet Empress takes the throne. The First Age was the Shogunate, and ends with Contagion. Before that is, effectively, prehistory, with the few bits that remain largely incomprehensible. As this starts somewhat before the canon start date for the setting, people are not yet aware the Empress is missing.

On a related note, people in this story being in possession of all (or even a reasonable chunk of) the facts is an exception, not a rule.

-

The huge wolf bounded over the crowd blocking the other end of the road in a single leap, spine twisting midair to land sideways and then take off in a shot down an alley. Tsi sprinted after it, the panicked crowd already dissolving in all directions to make a path for him.

The wolf led him through the city in twists and turns, moving so fast he could barely believe he was able to keep up. In short order he was hopelessly lost, having no time to pay attention to the roads or landmarks while trying to keep the beast's tail in sight. It moved with a quicksilver fluidness, never dislodging its rider. Finally he saw it almost slither sideways through a crumbling hole in one wall, and he dove blindly after it.

The wolf was gone. A young woman was taking the black-wrapped child from her shoulders and setting it down on the floor, where it sat quietly watching him. The room was a plain hovel of an abandoned building, with the original exit collapsed to leave a small enclosed shelter. There was a small mass of supplies piled in one corner, predominantly more of the black cloth the child was dressed in and several pieces of dark metal that seemed to shift unpleasantly in the light of a small lantern that hung from the ceiling.

The young woman turned to him and smiled broadly, showing numerous sharp teeth set in a face framed by a mass of white, fluffy hair. "I'm so glad we ran into you," she gushed. "This is more than I could have ever hoped for! Everyone's going to be so happy when they learn about this!" She brought to mind a fawning dog bowing and wagging its tail in delight. A big one.

"I - take it you know what's going on?" he asked her.

"You're a Sun King!" she said. "You're one of the true rulers of the world finally returned to solve _everything_."

"Oh," he said.

"We've all been waiting for you to come back, for so long." She turned to the child. "See, I told you!" she said gleefully. Then back to Tsi: "She's another Solar like you. I met her two months back."

"She's..."

"Her name's Shout of the Dawn." She reached over to push back the girl's hood, showing a black circle with lines coming off it on the girl's stark white forehead, like a simple drawing of the sun drawn in charcoal. The mark of a Forsaken. "Because she's a Dawn caste, you see?" She pointed toward him and said, "You're a Twilight caste. It's right there on your forehead, for anyone to see."

He reached up to touch his forehead, feeling something warm underneath his fingers. "I've something drawn in black?"

She nodded her head. "Yours is in gold." She pulled a silvery-white dagger from her belt. Before he could even wonder what she was doing, she tossed it to him, and somehow he caught it by the handle as easily as catching a ball. The light glinted off the polished side, and he realized she'd meant it as a improvised mirror. He tilted the blade and then saw his face reflected in it, a golden circle with the top half filled set glowing on the center of his forehead. Unclean. Marked. There for everyone to see.

He handed it back to her before his hands could start to shake. "I'm Tsi," he said. "And who are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm Winter Moon."

A barbarian's name. And she looked like a northerner, too. He'd heard that most Anathema came from threshold areas, where the Immaculate Order and their teachings were rare. He wondered what she was doing here. One of the Wretched...but she'd been out in the sunlight. Or an Ogre, here to set up a Yozi cult...?

He wished he'd paid more attention to the sermons now. He'd always been more concerned with -

"Contagion!" he blurted out. "There's been an outbreak! Do you know anything about that?"

She looked startled. "No. Great Contagion? Really? It's supposed to be dead."

"I - I think so," he said. "It's not like I've ever seen it before. There's not anybody left who..." He trailed off. There were stories of ancient Anathema from the First Age. For all he knew, she'd met them. He recovered his train of thought. "They're showing all the symptoms I find in all the records, just not as extreme. The disease seems to have stopped before they dissolve...stopped with their skin tinted. No bleeding at all. No fatalities. Could it be something else?"

She bit her lip, hesitating. "I don't...I don't know." She looked back toward the child. "We saw bodies, with a green tint, and some abandoned villages. But they'd been killed and raised by somebody." The child mumbled something that sounded like 'mem'. "There was this ghost thing around, there wasn't really time to investigate. I thought it was just the place, some sort of rot."

"No sign of them liquifying?"

She shook her head. "Not that I saw. I'm sorry, I didn't think it was important to check things closely. If you think it's Contagion..."

"I..." He took a breath. "I think I should go back to my house and get what I can carry. Maybe no one knows I'm - " He gestured helplessly toward his forehead. "- yet. I mean - I mean he's dead, and maybe no one else got a good enough look at me. Time enough to grab things at least, if I'm lucky." It wasn't like it would matter, really. He'd probably be hunted down by in short order. But then, she'd lasted at least months, if the two of them had been together that long. How long could you survive as a demon? A year, or maybe a few if he was careful, stayed away from cities and kept his head down...

She nodded, all smiles again. "You're right! We should hurry, there's lots of blooded traitors around here and they'll be swarming trying to find you."


End file.
